


evans

by watfordbird33



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: But it is what the story's about, Descriptions non-explicit, Except one kiss (described and consensual), F/M, M/M, The noncon warning applies to pre-story events, please read warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-07 14:37:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 13,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10362639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watfordbird33/pseuds/watfordbird33
Summary: The year Lily Evans fell apart.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> BE AWARE: this fic contains dark and mature content. I don't want anyone reading this who's not prepared for it. PLEASE read the tags and warnings posted above.

“What’s that?”

She freezes at his voice. One hand on the doorknob.

“What’s what?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

She turns, very slowly. Her hand goes to her shirt and tugs the hem down over the top of her jeans. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business. Why are you staring at my arse anyway?”

“I’m not staring at your arse. I’d have noticed that bruise from outer space; it’s the size of--”

“If you’re quite done, I’m late for Charms.”

“Evans!”

“Yes?”

“Talk to me.”

“We’re not friends.”

“I want to make sure you’re _okay._ ”

She goes to put her hair up, but stops, and something in his chest gives a hard, painful twist. It’s clear she knows if she was to reach towards her hair, her shirt would lift off her jeans and show the bruise.

“God, Evans, can’t you--”

He can feel his voice break, and hates it.

“No,” she says. Like ice and steel. “No, I can’t.”

And she turns back towards the door, and swings it open, and with one last angry pull at her shirt, she leaves him in the room alone.

 

He catches up to her later, by the lake. She’s walking like she’s got somewhere important to go, even though they’ve got Care of Magical Creatures next, and James knows for a fact they’ll be early.

“Evans!”

“ _What?_ ”

She whips around to face him. Her hair swings behind her: this fiery curtain. He fights the urge to take a step back.

(James Potter does not back down from a challenge.)

“Who hit you, Evans?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“So someone did?”

“Will you piss off?”

“I _won’t._ Someone’s been after you.”

“No one’s been after me.”

“Was it Snape?”

“Potter, please.” For this, her face relaxes, and she actually gives a snort. It’s not Snape. ( _Oh thank God thank God oh--_ ) “You’re absurd.”

“Was it Mulciber?”

She goes white, all at once, and her breath catches in her throat. Her freckles stand out and he knows it was Mulciber.

“Fuck,” he says. “Oh, God, Lily.”

“I don’t need you to be outraged on my behalf.”

“I’m not--I’m going to kill him.”

“No.” Her head goes up; she shies like a frightened rabbit. “No. He’ll--no. Don’t tell anyone. Don’t do anything to him. Please.”

“Did he--”

“Just get away from me.”

He stops. Looks at her: the tears in her eyes. And how fragile she is.

This is not the Lily Evans he knows.

(Nor the Lily Evans he loves.)

He says, softly, “Go on to class, okay?”

And then, even quieter:

“I’m sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware this chapter is short. Unfortunately, most will be. But there'll be a fair amount of them. :)


	2. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for strong language and sexual harassment. Also warnings for James Potter being the best human in the world. <3

Lily knows Mulciber is looking over at her. She can feel it. When she turns her head to track Professor Kettleburn across the lawn, she catches flashes of Mulciber’s dimpled grin.

(His reputation and his dimples are incongruous.)

“Miss Evans, if you could please step forward.”

She looks at Kettleburn, and he smiles back at her. Somewhere in the crowd of Slytherins, someone sniggers, and there’s a muttered comment that Lily doesn’t catch.

Then Potter’s low voice: “Mulciber, if you don’t shut your mouth I’ll hex it off you.”

Lily pushes past Potter and up to Kettleburn. When she’s faced the class, Kettleborn’s prosthetic hand comes down across her shoulder, and she has to fight not to show a reaction at the contact. She doesn’t want Mulciber to see her wince.

“Miss Evans has shown a remarkable talent with the hippogriffs in the past few days. I’d like to demonstrate to you all how it ought to be done. If you would give me perhaps five minutes to get Blueback from the stables--”

“That’s right,” Mulciber murmurs, when the professor, half-deaf, has given an amiable smile and moved away across the lawn. “Show us how it’s done, you little--”

“One more word,” Potter’s voice comes clearly. “One more word and you’ll be in the hospital wing for a week.”

Lily’s eyes are burning.

“I’m surprised _Evans_ isn’t in the hospital wing, honestly--”

Now there’s a scuffle, and Lily can’t not look. Potter’s being restrained by two Ravenclaw boys Lily barely knows.

“I’LL KILL YOU!”

“No, Potter, you’ll die like a Mudblood.”

Something in Lily’s chest gives a great awful wrench, and her wand’s in her hand before she can think.

(Severus, furious and upside-down--)

( _Mudblood_ \--)

(And the way Mulciber leered down at her, shouldering her up against the wall. His hand already fumbling at the place where her robes split.)

“What are you going to do, Evans? Curse me?”

“I hate you,” she says. Her voice breaks and breaks and the whole Care of Magical Creatures class is watching. “ _I_ _hate you._ ”

Mulciber’s eyes are calm. He doesn’t smile. “That’s not what you said when I had you up against a--”

Potter screams, “ _YOU SHUT YOUR GODDAMN MOUTH!_ ”

Lily’s hand is shaking.

“Practically begged me for more, didn’t you?”

Potter’s breath runs out and he starts to sob. Low, ragged.

“ _Liar_ ,” Lily whispers.

“What’s that?” Mulciber says.

Again, louder. Savoring it. “ _Liar._ ”

“Who’s going to take the word of a Mudblood over--”

Her hand has stopped shaking, and so when she screams the Stun, it hits Mulciber right between the eyes.

 

And then there’s just Potter’s sobs, and silence.

So much silence:

{      }

{      }

Kettleburn, behind her:

“What in the name of Merlin is going on here?”

But he’s too late to stop it.

_Too late._

The Ravenclaws let Potter go, and he slumps. He falls to his knees like the wind’s been knocked out of him.

“Was that your hex, Miss Evans?”

“Yes, sir.”

Kettleburn’s eyes are saucer-plate-wide.

“Detention,” he hisses. “Tonight. Here.”

“Professor!”

It’s Potter--of course it is--struggling to his feet. His voice taut and hoarse and cracked.

“Sir, Mulciber antagonized her.”

(Oh, James Potter. You’ll only get hurt.)

Kettleburn says, “I saw nothing except Miss Evans’ hex.”

“Are you _fucking kidding me_?”

“That’s detention for both of you,” Kettleburn says, his tone terribly smooth. “And the headmaster’s office. _Now._ ”

 

Kettleburn doesn’t go with them across the grounds, which means once they’ve rounded the corner up to the school, Potter says, “We don’t have to go.”

Lily looks at him.

“To Dumbledore.”

She shakes her head.

“Say something, Evans,” he pleads.

“We’ll get in trouble,” she says, but her voice cracks.

“We won’t. Kettleburn isn’t following us. He didn’t owl Dumbledore. No one’ll know where we’re supposed to be. I think you should lie down.”

“My dormitory.”

“Mine.”

Lily has become very good at transmitting wordless derision.

“You shouldn’t be alone.”

“I’m fine.”

“Dammit, didn’t you hear the things he said?”

He’s actually shaking beside her.

“Why do you care so much?” she asks him.

“Why do I _care_?”

He stops, and she stops with him. In lieu of all the emotion that rose within her, she feels nothing. Just curiously numb.

(Except her back hurts, where Mulciber slammed her against the wall. And her legs hurt, where he forced his way in between them.)

She says, “He used a Full Body-Bind.”

Potter closes his eyes.

“I went down to the kitchen. Remus told me last week how to get in. It wasn’t even past curfew; I just wanted a snack. And then he caught me on the way back up.”

She chokes, and fear and anger comes rushing back.

Potter’s gone snow-white.

“Will you come up to the dormitory now?”

“Okay.”

He looks at her and nods. There’s this look to his eyes somewhere between fear and pride and gentleness.

“Okay,” he says. “Come on.”


	3. three

He closes the door to the dormitory, once Lily’s sat gingerly on Peter’s bed. It’s quiet up here. The only noise is the faint sounds of first-year flying lessons ringing from the Quidditch pitch.

“You can lie down,” James says, then immediately regrets it. He doesn’t know how resting in a boy’s bed is going to affect her.

She shakes her head. “My back hurts.”

“Want me to look at it?”

“I can take care of myself.” And a scowl.

“You’re not very scary.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

He smiles in spite of himself. Goes into the bathroom to wash his face, leaving the door open. When he comes out he nearly faints, because she’s in the middle of disrobing casually on Peter’s bed.

“What the hell--”

She finishes stripping her shirt off, and then it’s a bit of work not to stare, because Lily Evans in just a purple bra and jeans is something James never thought he’d see.

“There,” she says, caustically. “Now you can look at it.”

She eases onto her stomach. The bruise he saw in the empty classroom earlier is even bigger than he thought: it spirals up her back, disappearing under her bra. It’s a color somewhere in between purple and green.

“You should have gone to the hospital wing,” he whispers.

“If I tell anyone, Mulciber will do worse to me. Next time.”

“There’s not going to be a next time.”

“You’re an arrogant toerag; you know that?”

“Sounds familiar.”

He crosses the room to her, pulling his wand from his sleeve. This close, she smells like too much shampoo. He wonders how many showers she’s taken since last night.

“Can you ice it?” she says.

“I don’t know a spell for that.”

She offers a spell, and he mutters it in return, resting his wand against her back. Even that contact makes her twitch and hiss.

“Easy, Evans.”

Eyes shut, she says, “Why are you taking care of me?”

“Well, you’ve just been--”

“Don’t say it.”

“I may be an arrogant toerag, but I’m not a monster.”

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I did.”

She turns her head to look up at him. He can see the chill of his wand loosening her muscles, relaxing her face. “Maybe you’re not so bad.”

“I wish I’d recorded that.”

Her gaze is intense. He looks at her back instead, to banish the force of it. She’s got a pattern of freckles along her spine, and it’s incredibly endearing.

“You stood up for me,” she says, and her voice shakes.

“Of course I did; did you hear the shit he was saying?”

“ _I didn’t beg for more._ ”

“I know.”

“I was in a Body-Bind.”

“I know.”

“I’m scared. I’m so scared.”

“It won’t happen again,” he tells her.

“But what if it does?”

“It won’t. I promise.”

“You’re freezing my back.”

He removes his wand. “Better?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then she turns to him, opening her eyes. “Do you need to lie down, too?”

“Maybe,” he says. “But I’m okay just--”

She slides to one side of the bed.

“Oh, I don’t--”

“You’re a lot different than Mulciber, Potter. I trust you.”

He hands her the shirt, and she puts it back on. Then he stretches himself out on the mattress beside her. He keeps four inches of space between them.

“You’re different,” she says. “Since you rescued Sev. Still a toerag, but just altogether less toeraggy.”

James’s blood ices. “Snape told you about that?”

“Not the details. He said you were just saving your friends’ skins.”

“That’s not really true. My friends are idiots. Saving their stupid skins was a favor I threw in on top of saving Snape’s.”

Dryly: “So noble. What are you; some avenging Gryffindor angel?”

“Something like that,” he says.

She rolls over so she’s on her back. She’s got a tiny cut next to her lip, and a bruise under her ear. He pictures Mulciber’s hands cupping her face, and his gut roils.

“How do I move on from this?” she whispers to the ceiling.

He doesn’t know what to say. He watches her blink: the slow movement of her lashes, the stirring of her breath.

(And this:

He loves her.

He always has.)

“Severus sits with them. And Mulciber was laughing with him, this morning. Looking at me. Probably fucking _bragging_. I thought Sev would defend me, but he just sat there.”

James reaches out to touch her hand, and she bolts upright, shocking him so much that he nearly falls off the edge of the bed.

“Don’t _touch_ me.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, scrambling into a sitting position. “I--”

She shakes her head, trembling.

(There are riots happening inside his chest.)

“Evans, I don’t know what to say.”

“Just don’t touch me. Please.”

They sit for a moment, backs against the headboard. James eases himself closer to the edge of the bed to give her space.

“I’m all right now,” she says finally.

“You don’t have to be.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Can’t you--”

“No, Potter, I fucking _can’t_ , okay? I can’t let him get to me. I shouldn’t have Stunned him.”

“What, and just let him spew shit like that?”

“I let him _get_ to me.”

He lets out his breath in a long, frustrated hiss. “Why the hell are you such a brave, beautiful idiot?”

She closes her eyes, tears spilling. “Don’t.”

He says, “Lie down, Evans. Please.”

She lies down, and flips over, away from him. Her shirt’s ridden up again, so the bruise leers at him.

“Just sleep,” he says.

She says, “Sleeping won’t fix this.”

“ _We_ can fix this,” he promises her. “Both of us. You’re going to be able to move on.”

She extends her hand towards him, and he doesn’t realize what she wants until she tangles her fingers in his.

“You don’t have to do that,” he says, surprised.

She squeezes his hand. “Do me a favor and shut up.”

 

He comes back to consciousness slowly.

“ _Potter_.”

“Wha--”

When he opens his eyes, Lily’s leaning over him. Her hair’s tangled and thrown over one shoulder, and her eyes are swollen.

“I can hear Remus and Sirius coming up the stairs,” she says. “Maybe Peter, too.”

“ _Shit._ ”

James tosses the covers away from himself. Listening, it becomes apparent that the three remaining Marauders are almost at the door.

“What are we going to do?” he says, desperately.

“Do you know the Disillusionment Charm yet?”

“Fuck no. You’re the Charms expert--”

They stare at each other in mutual dread.

“Hide in the bathroom,” James says. “Go. Now.”

She goes, and he can hear the rustling of the curtain as she steps into the shower. Her hair’s a glint of flame.

“You owe me one,” she calls.

“We can talk about that later.”

“JAMES!”

The door bursts open and Sirius Black comes bounding into the room, all smiles and anticipation and black satin robes.

“James, James, James,” he singsongs, and with a flying leap he’s landed himself half on top of James, tangling both of them thoroughly in the mess of covers on Peter’s bed. “The man himself. I heard you got yourself into all sorts of trouble in Care of Magical Creatures.”

“Pads, get off him; you’ll suffocate him,” Remus says, pausing in the doorway with his usual book in hand.

“What’re you doing on my bed, anyway?” Peter adds from just behind Remus.

“It’s not a big deal,” James says to Sirius. Then, to Peter: “Sorry.”

“Tell me more,” Sirius demands. “I heard you nearly killed Mulciber--”

“That wasn’t me; that was Evans.”

“ _Evans_!”

“Finally got her head out of her arse, did she?” Peter says matter-of-factly, as he hangs his robes up beside his bed.

“You shut up about her,” James says.

Peter shrugs. “Whatever you say, mate.”

“She never had her head up her arse in the first place.”

Sirius sits up. “Drop it, Prongs. We, unlike you, don’t care about Evans’ arse. Did she get in trouble?”

“Yeah, and then I swore at Kettleburn and now we’ve both got detention tonight.”

Sirius crows.

Remus says mildly, “That was rather stupid of you.”

“I think you’d have done the same, Moons.”

Looking at Remus, James has this irrational surge of fury. For a second, he wants to say, _You’re the one who told her where the kitchens are._

“Coming to dinner?” Sirius says, cheerful.

“In a minute. You look nice, Pads; what’s the occasion?”

“He’s got a date after dinner,” Peter says.

“ _Really,_ ” James says.

Sirius beams. “With Marlene McKinnon, no less.”

Peter groans. “I’m going to bed early so you won’t wake me up mooning over her.”

James looks at Remus to see how he feels about this--Sirius has been pining over Marlene for nearly a year now--and finds him white as parchment. The way Lily looked when James said Mulciber’s name.

“I need the loo, then,” Peter says, starting towards the bathroom door. “If we’re going down to dinner.”

Sudden panic slicks James’ blood. “You can go downstairs.”

“There’s a toilet right-the-fuck here, Prongs; what’s your problem?”

James extracts himself from the bedsheets and from Sirius and does a credible leap to land in front of Peter, blocking his progress with both arms. “Go downstairs. Come on.”

“Oi, mate, get out of my way.”

“Downstairs. It’s not a big deal.”

“And using our own personal loo isn’t a big deal, either.”

Somewhere in the last year, Peter lost his baby fat, and he’s got twenty pounds of raw muscle on James now. He shoves him bodily aside.

“What are you doing, Prongs?” Sirius says from the bed. “Let the man take his piss.”

“He shouldn’t go in there--”

“And why not?”

James says weakly, “I...”

It only takes two steps for Lily to emerge from the shower glaring, her hair still an absolute mess. Peter gives a little squeak and topples into the wall, and she steps over him without a backward glance.

Sirius gapes. “What the hell--Evans--”

“You’re the worst liar, Potter,” Lily spits. “The absolute worst.”

“I tried--”

Sirius’s gape turns into dawning realization. “God, Prongs, were you--”

“ _No._ ”

The expression on Sirius’s face is somewhere between horror and wicked delight. “I _don’t_ believe it.”

“Good,” Lily snaps, “because it isn’t true.”

James can see how her self-control is starting to fray. He wants the Marauders out of here before it breaks.

“Pads, do me a favor,” he says. “Take Wormy and Moons and go to dinner.”

Sirius adopts an insufferable smirk. “I’m not leaving you two kids alone.”

“I’ll hex your hair,” Lily says tightly.

He holds up his hands in mock terror. “No need to be so touchy. Moons, would you mind dragging Peter off the floor?”

When they’ve left, James sinks back onto Peter’s bed and sighs.

“I’m sorry.”

“Your friends _are_ idiots.”

“Just Sirius.”

She says, “I don’t want them to--think that. About us. What we were doing.”

“I’ll talk to them.”

“I don’t want anyone to think that about me and anyone.”

“Ever?”

She puts her hands over her face. “I don’t know anymore, Potter. I’m all fucked up.”

“Hey.” He reaches for her. Stops. Puts his hand down. “Hey. Don’t talk like that. We’ll fix you.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“But it’ll get easier.”

When she doesn’t remove her hands, he takes his wand and casts purple smoke in front of her. It bubbles and shifts in long lilac trails and she lifts her head from her hands.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” she says.

“My dad taught me.”

She touches a length of smoke, and it twines its way around her finger. Something like a smile curls her lips.

“You like it?” James says.

She drops her hand abruptly. “It’s nice.” The animation goes out of her voice, and when she turns to him, her eyes are hard. He sees Mulciber reflected in them like a nightmare. This lack of trust. “Let’s go to dinner.”

Confused and hurt, he lets her go first down the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, look: a long chapter. It's a Monday miracle!


	4. four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first of two chapters I'll be posting today. Since this one is only 86 words.

In the Great Hall, Sirius looks at Remus.

“You look upset, Moons.”

“I’m not upset,” Remus says, with a set to his mouth that indicates he is, indeed, upset.

“What’s wrong?”

“Where are you going with Marlene tonight?”

Sirius blinks. “The library. Then we were going to sneak out to the lake.”

“Romantic,” Remus says, and his voice is bitter.

“What is your problem?”

“No problem. I’m happy for you.”

“It doesn’t seem like you are.”

“Can you just leave me alone?”

Sirius leaves him alone.


	5. five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the second chapter I'm posting today! This one seems to be a little longer than 86 words.

Lily doesn’t see Potter on her way down to Kettleburn’s detention, but she does see Sirius Black and Marlene McKinnon, wrapped up in each other on the shore of the lake. From this angle, it looks like Sirius is naked from the waist up.

Lily has to glance away: every inch of bare skin she sees, now, makes her shiver. Even her own hands, with their neatly trimmed fingernails and grease-burn scars.

(She was in the Bind before she knew it. He caught her and slammed her against the wall, and fire went up her back.)

( _Mudblood._ )

( _You filthy little Mudblood._ )

She turns back to Sirius and Marlene and now Marlene is the one stripping off her shirt. Their laughter carries across the lake.

She wants to scream, _What are you doing? Why do you throw this around like it means absolutely nothing?_

She hadn’t even been kissed, before Mulciber.

 

Kettleburn’s already talking to Potter, when she arrives. Despite the fact that this is a detention, they’re jostling and laughing like old friends.

“Miss Evans,” Kettleburn says, when he notices her. “Glad you decided to join us.”

Potter just says, “Evans.”

He’s looking at her like he hasn’t seen her for months, even though they had Care of Magical Creatures together just this afternoon. Mulciber, his arm in a sling, didn’t say a blessed _word._

“Potter,” she says, and then, turning to Kettleburn: “Professor.”

“You’ll be mucking out the stables. I’ve got a meeting up at the castle, so I hope I can trust the two of you alone.”

“Absolutely, sir,” Potter says, the very picture of obedience.

“Potter, you’ll see me tomorrow night as well, for lines. Writing something about not swearing like a common Muggle.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Evans, if I see you cast one more hex in my class, you won’t have a free night until February.”

Potter says, “Professor, I wanted to talk to you about that. Evans didn’t start it. Mulciber has done--things, in the past, and he taunted her--”

“Mr. Potter. What’s done is done.”

“But--”

“I don’t want you to lose your temper again.”

There’s a warning in Kettleburn’s sharp eyes.

“Sorry, sir,” Potter says, quietly.

“Very good. I’ll leave you two, then. You’ve done the stables often enough, so you should be able to find the tools you need. Evans--you can cast a fully formed Patronus?” At her nod, he gives her an approving smile. “If you need anything, send me a message.”

When he’s left, stumping up the lawn towards the castle, Potter says, “I didn’t know that.”

“Know what?”

“You can cast a fully formed Patronus?”

She nods.

“What is it?”

“A cat. A big one, like a panther.” She pauses. “But I haven’t checked--it might have changed.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

“I hadn’t thought of that, either.”

They look at each other for a long moment. Potter rakes an uncertain hand back through his hair.

“The stable?” he says, gesturing.

“I suppose.”

Mucking out is easy work--a light detention to counter Kettleburn’s usual tasks. They work in a comfortable rhythm, pitchforks scraping in unison.

Lily says, “Did you talk to Sirius? About what we were really doing?”

“I did. He’s convinced. Or, if he isn’t, he won’t show it.”

“Somehow, I’m still not confident.”

“Well, he’s Sirius, isn’t he? You can never be confident. _Arsehole,_ ” he says fondly.

“He was by the lake.”

“With Marlene?”

“Yeah.”

“Good for him. He’s been a fool over her for a long time.”

She says, suddenly nervous, “You didn’t--you didn’t tell him, though. About Mulciber.”

“Of course I didn’t tell him.”

She closes her eyes. Relieved and grateful. Her shoulders shake. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. It doesn’t sound right. You’re supposed to curse at me. Or maybe slap me.”

“I’m just glad you didn’t tell him.”

“Oh, Lily Evans, you could trust me forever and always.”

His tone is light, mocking, but when she turns to look at him he’s looking back at her.

“Are you going to tell Remus?” she asks him.

“Do you want me to?”

“If you were going to tell anyone, I’d prefer you tell Remus.”

“I don’t have to tell anyone. Anyone at all.”

“All I’m worried about, if you don’t--” She puts down her pitchfork and steadies herself against the wall of the hippogriff stall, watching the way her breath mists in front of her. “I don’t want people to assume things. When we’re together. All the time.”

Potter frowns at her.

“What?”

“Just--where did this being together all the time thing come from?”

She flushes.

“Hmm,” he says. Expressionless.

“All I meant…”

“Yeah, why don’t you clarify that.”

Now he’s smiling. She thinks that maybe if this was before Mulciber, she’d smile back. But then again, maybe not. This is not the same James Potter she knew before Mulciber.

(Or maybe she’s just not the same Lily Evans.)

She says, “It’s going to cost me a lot to confess this. But I’m so fucking afraid, it hurts. I feel like every time I walk by Mulciber, he’ll hurt me again. And this--the way you’ve helped me--the way you’ve paused your arrogant toeragginess for a while--it--”

She stops and looks at him. His smile’s slipped.

“Am I really hearing this?” he says.

She folds her arms. “Maybe I should take back what I said about your lack of arrogant toeragginess.”

“Let’s not be hasty.”

She says, “I’m afraid.”

“Lily, I’m going to phrase this badly, because that’s just who I am, but I would be honored to be with you. All the time. I would even--if this passes your feminist standards--be honored to protect you.”

She expects him to be grinning, the same wide, shit-eating grin Sirius wears so often, but his face is calm. He meets her gaze like a challenge.

“This is the one you owe me,” she says. “From the dormitory.”

“No, actually. This one’s on me.”

“Why?”

“I believe you’ve asked me some variation of this question many times already.”

“I’ve never gotten an answer.”

“I’m not ready to give you an answer.”

She looks at him, and this time he looks away.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” she says, softly. “I’m not used to thanking people.”

He picks up his pitchfork again and hefts a particularly large mound of dung. “Evans,” he says, “never fear. The pleasure is all mine.”


	6. six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this one's late, but here you go! Kinda short, whoops--I'm exhausted.
> 
> ALSO....yet another warning, for this chapter and future chapters. Implied/referenced homophobia. Not like outright homophobia, but severe 1970s discomfort with the LGBTQ+ community. (No slurs, don't worry: I'd never write that.) Please know your own limits and triggers.

Remus is stretched out in the common room reading when Sirius comes in. It’s two hours past curfew, and Sirius looks a mess.

“Have a good night?” Remus says, though it costs him to say it. To inquire so mildly, as though he doesn’t care.

“I don’t think it’ll last, but we had a nice snog.”

“ _Did_ you.”

“You’re acting weird, Moons.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“How’s Marlene, then?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

“I’d have thought you’d enjoy this particular subject change.”

“She’s _fine_ , but Marauders stick together, and something’s up.” Sirius plants himself in the chair beside Remus, squashing him against the arm. His book falls to the floor, forgotten. “C’mon, Moony. Talk to me.”

“I don’t need to talk,” Remus says stiffly.

“Are you _pouting_?”

“No, Sirius, I’m not pouting.”

“What’s up, then?”

“Nothing. Go to bed.”

Sirius doesn’t move. He drapes his arm over the back of the chair and ruffles Remus’s hair with an enormous hand. “Why were you waiting up for me?”

Remus’s mouth thins. “I wasn’t waiting up for you. I couldn’t sleep.”

He wants to turn, so if his groin betrays him Sirius won’t see the evidence, but Sirius has jammed him so thoroughly into the chair he can do nothing but wait.

“Well, I’m not going to bed until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“You don’t want to know,” Remus tries. Maybe this will make Sirius leave him alone.

“I very much do want to know.”

Remus closes his eyes and sighs. “Pads, you’re insufferable.”

“Thank you.”

There’s a moment of silence.

Sirius pokes Remus in the nose. “Tell me what’s on your mind. We can forget it in the morning.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“I don’t know if you’ll be able to forget this in the morning.”

“Try me.”

Remus pushes his face into the back of the armchair. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“Just say it. Quickly.”

“Quickly?”

Sirius shrugs. “Maybe it’ll make it easier.”

Remus groans. “Fine.”

“So?” Sirius presses, after a second.

“I’m jealous,” Remus says into the chair.

“Jealous?”

“Jealous.”

“Of...of me?”

A long pause.

“Pads, are you an _idiot?_ ”

“Apparently.”

“I’m jealous of _Marlene._ ”

A longer pause.

“Fuck,” Sirius says.

Remus feels his heart plummet.

“Are you drunk, Moons?”

“ _No,_ Sirius, I’m not _drunk._ ”

Sirius extracts himself from the chair. His expression’s nearly blank, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes.

(Disgust?)

“I’m going upstairs,” he says.

Remus says, “Did I ruin everything?”

“I just need to go to bed, okay?”

Remus watches Sirius move towards the stairs. He feels like a bottle with the bottom tapped out.

“Did you see James and Lily?” he says, in one last desperate attempt to get Sirius to turn around.

“Remus, could you just--give me a night? Before we start acting like nothing’s happened?”

“Sure,” Remus says. He blinks back tears. “Sure. Take a night.”

“Thanks,” Sirius says roughly, and he disappears up the stairs without another word.


	7. seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late post today--I had a band concert that ran kinda late. Just a warning that this is sort of short... The next one will be longer. And also (I hope) way more satisfying. Lots of Jily coming up for ya.

“Prongs, what are you doing? You’ll be late to breakfast.”

“Go down without me,” James says.

Remus frowns at him. “I can wait.” 

“Where are Sirius and Peter?”

“They already went down.” Remus’s face twists. “Sirius is not--the happiest with me right now--”

“What’d you do; talk shit about Marlene?”

“I guess you could call it that,” Remus says, with a sardonic little smile.

“Well, go down and sit with Mary, then, or Alice.”

“Why don’t you just come down with me? You’re not  _ doing  _ anything.”

“I’m  _ waiting, _ ” James says, primly.

“For who?”

James’s face goes hot. “Er…”

“You can tell me.”

“For Evans.”

Remus’s brow creases, but he doesn’t say anything. He folds his arms across his chest.

“We’re not dating,” James says defensively.

“I never said you were.”

“You looked like that’s what you were thinking.”

“You just seem to have gotten awfully close to her in the past few days--”

“She’s having a  _ really  _ hard time.”

Remus’s face stills. He nods. “I didn’t know that.”

“I’m helping her with it. Although I don’t think I’m doing any good.”

Remus cracks a smile. “You’re clearly doing  _ some  _ good, if she can stand to be in the same room with you for longer than--”

“Oh, shut your mouth.” James takes a half-hearted swipe at Remus, and misses. “You could help me. If you ever see her in the halls alone, could you keep an eye out for her?”

“What exactly is this really hard time she’s having, Prongs?”

“I’m not going to betray her trust. But she shouldn’t be alone in the halls. She’s said it herself; I’m not putting words in her mouth.”

“I don’t doubt you. But if she’s struggling so much, maybe she should let someone else know--a teacher--”

“Try telling that to Evans.”

Remus gives him a rueful smile.

Lily appears at the bottom of the dormitory stairs, then, in a pair of dark robes pulled tight around her body. When she sees James,  she raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“You look concerned,” he tells her, as she crosses the room to where he sits.

“I’m not concerned. I’m just wondering why you waited for me.”

“You know exactly why I waited for you.”

Her cheeks flush; she glances away. James tries to ignore Remus’s smirk. 

“I just wasn’t sure if you’d honor everything you said last night,” Lily says softly.

He wants to say,  _ Oh, Lily, I’d do anything for you. _

“Well, I’m honoring it.”

She looks him straight in the eye. Smiles. “I’m glad.”

From the portrait hole, Remus says, “Are you two coming?”

 

In the Great Hall, James finds three adjacent seats at the Gryffindor table. Remus sits beside Lily, a full bench-length away from Sirius.

“You should eat,” James says, when Lily makes no motion to touch her food.

“I’m not hungry.”

He follows her gaze across the Great Hall to the Slytherin table. Mulciber, Avery, and Snape face them. Mulciber’s still got his arm cradled against his chest, though the sling he had on yesterday is gone.

“Don’t look at them,” James says. 

He picks up Lily’s fork for her, but she shoves it away. “I can’t eat while he’s watching me.”

There’s that familiar swirl of hatred in James’s stomach. He thinks he’ll feel this way about Mulciber forever. He thinks he’ll feel this way about anyone who ever tries to hurt Lily again.

“Do you know why I wore these robes, Potter?”

He tries for a compliment. Unsure of where she’s going with this. “I think you look nice.”

“They’re not supposed to look nice. They’re supposed to be long and dark and they’re supposed to cover me. All of me.”

His breath catches when he looks at her. She’s staring determinedly at the far wall. Right past Mulciber’s leering gaze.

“Because I was wearing shorter ones,” she says. Almost a whisper. “When he caught me.”

He says, “You shouldn’t let him tell you it was your fault.”

“Believe me when I tell you it’s harder than it looks.”

She turns to him, and he sees her crushed pride. He sees her ragged edges.

“Come with me,” he says.


	8. eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone let me know if my chapters don't make sense, like if there's a chapter missing or a weird progression of events. I screwed up all the numbering in the Google Doc where I have this story, so this appeared to be chapter nine. But I checked, and I think it's eight.
> 
> Oh, in case it's not obvious, I do not in fact write at the speed of light and have one or two new chapters done every day. I do, however, EDIT at the speed of light and have one or two already-completed chapters edited every day. I can promise you this fic is a finished work with a real plot. Enjoy :)

They go to the common room, first, and she waits downstairs while he runs up to his dormitory. When he descends, he’s holding something behind his back, and she gives him a quizzical look.

“Don’t ask questions, Evans. Please, after you.”

She goes first through the portrait hole. Walking side by side again--Potter carrying his mysterious object awkwardly behind him--she feels more comfortable than she has in days. She lets her hands unclench from the front of her robes. Lets them slip free just a little. 

“You okay?” he says, glancing at her.

“I’m working on it,” she says, and it feels good to say it like that. To admit that she’s  _ not  _ okay.

But she will be. She will be.

 

On the lawn, he reveals the object with a dramatic flourish, and  _ of course  _ it’s a broomstick. She should have known.

“So, what?” she says. “I’m just going to watch you fly around and impress me with your artfully tousled hair?”

“Evans, you insult me. I wake up like this every morning.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“But no, actually. I was thinking you’d like a ride?”

He’s fidgeting, his feet scraping the grass. Hesitant. Bashful.

“I haven’t flown since first-year lessons,” she says.

“I’d fly. I just--I think you might like--you get a good perspective, up there. Of Hogwarts. A good view.”

“I guess I--I’ll try it,” she says uncertainly. “What if I fall?”

“I’ll catch you.”

He meets her smile with one of his own. 

“So gallant,” she says. “You seem to have forgotten I can’t bear to be touched.”

He looks at her, then at the broom. Then back again. His smile falls. “Shit.”

“I mean, I held your hand. I don’t know how--”

She stops. He’s blushing fire-engine red. “What the hell, Potter?”

“Sorry,” he says, waving her on. “Don’t mind me. Continue.”

“I was just going to say I don’t know what I will and won’t react to.”

“Do you want to try, still?”

She thinks about flying. The wind in her face. Potter in front of her. She thinks about the way the sky would feel, up there, and how the ground would just spread itself out beneath her.

“Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, I do.”

 

They get on the broom all right--Potter in front, Lily in back--and she’s feeling pretty proud of herself, all things considered, when it leaps six feet in the air without warning and she grabs onto Potter with a shriek to keep from falling.

And then her cheek’s against his back, her arms wrapped all the way around his waist.

And all she can think is:

_ Mulciber. _

(He bit her lip. He drew blood.)

“Evans!”

She disengages herself from Potter, but it’s not enough. The world is spinning and she wants to cover herself up. She wants to drown in fabric. Be devoured.

“Goddammit, Evans, help me out here.”

“I’m okay,” she says. Breathless. Looking at the sky. She clutches at the polished wooden handle of the broom and tries to calibrate her fucked-up mind. “I’m okay.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to take off that suddenly. Do you want to get off?”

“Just give me a minute.”

“If you hold on to the broom like that, I can go up real slow, and you’ll be fine.”

“No, I want to fly,” she says. She doesn’t know where it comes from but all of a sudden she does. She doesn’t want to inch upwards, clinging to the handle of a broom. She wants to fly. She wants to see the sky up close. “I want to fly for real. I can do it, Potter.”

He waits, and she’s grateful for his silence. His patience. She takes one hand off the broom and places it on his shoulder.

(And it’s okay; she’s all right.)

(She’s touching someone. She’s not being attacked. She’s not being kissed. She’s holding James Potter so she won’t fall off his broom.)

She slides her hand down to his hips, then lifts the other one. He’s frighteningly slim, so her fingers lock with no resistance around his stomach.

“Okay?” he says softly.

“Yes. Okay.”

The broom jolts again, and moves upward, but this time she’s anchored. She puts her head against Potter’s shoulder and watches the lights of Hogwarts spin away beneath her.

“Tell me when you want to stop. When you need to let go.”

“I will,” she says.

“Your hands are cold.”

“ _ I’m  _ cold.”

“Reckon a warming charm would fix that.”

“I don’t want to let go, to get my wand.”

After a moment he says, “We’ll stop here.”

They stop. The broom gives a soft whir between Lily’s legs, then rotates. She gives a squeak and tightens her grip on Potter’s robes.

“Still okay?”

“Still okay.”

This high up, there’s almost no sound. Just Potter’s breath and hers, intermingled, and the roar of a jet plane somewhere in the distance. The broom completes a slow rotation, and the Astronomy tower looms up below them.

“Isn't it great?” Potter says.

“I feel--”

She fails to complete the sentence, and she can hear Potter’s soft laughter. His muscles shift under her cheek. 

“I know,” he says.

“I don't want to come down.”

“I know.”

“Have you ever been tempted? To just fly, and never come back?”

“Every day,” he says mournfully. “All the time.”

She says, “I want a broomstick.”

“I'll keep it in mind.”

She loosens her stranglehold on him enough so she can wiggle out of one sleeve of her robes. Then the other. When he turns his head, questioning, she lets the wind catch the robes and whip them off to somewhere else.

“You'll freeze,” Potter says.

“This is a symbolic moment, and you're ruining it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Symbolism,” she adds, “representing how I'm about to push you off this broom.”

“That’s it; I’m taking you down again.”

“No! No!”

They laugh, and the broom rocks with their laughter. This high up, Lily should be scared, but all she feels is exhilaration. She's chilled and vibrant and alive to her very bones.


	9. nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has left such sweet, thoughtful comments. Every time I see that little (1) beside my inbox, I smile. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
> 
> In this chapter: frank 1970s discussion of asexuality. I am not an expert on asexuality, and I've plugged that un-expertness straight into my characters. Please do not be insulted by their (and my) general cluelessness. The poor things are just trying to figure stuff out.
> 
> (But in any case: warnings for that)

“I think I'm asexual.”

“What?”

“I think I'm asexual,” Lily repeats, without looking up from her Potions essay.

“What’s that?”

“It's like…”

Lily puts down her quill and tries to think of an explanation that won't totally repulse Potter.

“It's a really new term. It's like when you don't want physicality in a relationship. Or physicality that goes beyond hugs and kisses, anyway. I don't know. I think it varies. It's just when you're...not into sex.”

When she looks up at him to see how he's taking this, he's looking back at her. There's a kind of sharp, pained protectiveness in his eyes.

“Is this because of Mulciber?” he says.

She firms up her mouth. “There doesn't have to be a reason.”

“Okay. But you were--ah, into it, before, weren't you?"

She does a little embarrassed shrug. How is she supposed to react? Of course she was; she had the same fantasies as all her friends did. She still does, sometimes.

"You were traumatized. You were assaulted. What Mulciber did to you is entirely different from what people would consider--ah--real sexual contact.”

The way he says _sexual contact_ makes Lily hide a smile in spite of herself. It's so endearingly earnest and awkward.

“But that,” she says, “doesn't stop me from being revolted by the whole concept.”

“Of sex?”

She nods.

“Tell me if I'm overstepping myself, but even the way you're talking to me about this, analytically, tells me you've come a long ways already since how you first felt.”

She frowns at him. “Your point?”

“You can absolutely be revolted by sex. Because of what Mulciber did to you. But I think that's something different than just not wanting it. But Evans, God, I have no idea. This is so new, right? I mean, who the hell knows. You can be whatever you want, and I'll be right here.”

It takes a second for her to respond, and when she does, her voice is low. “I just want something to be constant. So I can know it's there. I want something to depend on in the middle of this shitstorm.”

There's perfect silence for a long, long minute.

“Evans,” Potter says.

“Yeah.”

“I--I could be your constant.”

She blinks, not understanding.

“You know I'll be here. You can depend on me.”

His voice cracks, and he ducks his head in embarrassment. A stray curl slips forward with his glasses.

She stares at him.

“Sorry?” he offers, squinting up at her between parallel forearms.

“No, don't--” She laughs, disbelieving. “I just--that was really--”

“--stupid.”

“--beautiful.”

“Pshhh,” he scoffs.

“Hey.” She shakes her quill at him. “Hey. Take a compliment.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

She laughs, and it comes out a little choked. She's become all of a sudden aware, in this moment, of how thoroughly he has given himself to her. Of what he’s given up to protect her so completely.

She doesn't know how to say it, though--not yet--so she just pulls her robes tighter around herself and puts quill to parchment once again.


	10. ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for implied/referenced homophobia. And a little bit of internalized, I guess.

Sirius comes into the dormitory without warning.

“Oh,” he says, when he sees Remus. _“_ _ Moony. ” _

He’s pale, his eyes wild, his whole self a little off-kilter. Remus looks at him in shock.

(But in resignation, too.)

“Pads,” he says. 

Sirius blinks, and there’s the rasp of callused fingers through tangled hair.

“You can move,” Remus snaps, irritated by Sirius’s fish-mouthed uncertainty. “I’m not going to jump your bones.”

“Give me a second,” Sirius says. He closes the door behind him and goes to sit on the edge of his bed, facing Remus. “You just took me by surprise.”

“Good,” Remus says, and it comes out more spiteful than he intends.

Sirius sighs. “You couldn’t expect me not to react.”

Remus turns away.

There’s a soft clunk as Sirius kicks off his trainers, and then he’s on the bed, horizontal, his legs stretched out. Remus closes his eyes as tight as he can and tells himself not to look.

After a moment, eyes still closed, he says, “I didn’t want to tell you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m starting to wish you hadn’t.”

“Don’t be like this,” Remus whispers, half to himself.

He can feel all the individual pieces of his heart, carving up his chest. He is beginning to understand why people think homosexuality is a sin--it hurts like fire, like Purgatory, to be in love like this. It burns you down. It breaks you.

“You told me,” he reminds Sirius. “You forced me into telling you. I told you that you wouldn’t want to hear.”

Sirius scrubs at his hair. “Why can’t you be more  _ stubborn,  _ Remus Lupin? Why couldn’t you could have  _ refused ?" _

This is entirely unfair, and it’s clear that Sirius knows it too.

“I hope you understand,” Remus says, very quietly, when a sufficient amount of guilt has crept into Sirius’s profile, “that I don’t intend to act upon this.”

“Well _\--_ _ good. _ Because I’m not a--a homosexual. And I’m dating Marlene.”

Remus stands. He has always prided himself on reparation. Fixing others. Fixing things. This is not the first time he has had to fix himself, but he doesn’t think it’s ever hurt quite as much as it does right now. “I’m perfectly aware.”

“Are you leaving?”

He looks, and finds Sirius looking up at him. A study in black and scarlet, painted by a dashing hand. 

“Yes, I’m leaving.”

Standing by the door to the dormitory, Remus thinks about apologizing, and the way the words would taste on his tongue. He thinks about the strength it’s going to take to hold his broken heart together.

He leaves in silence. 

(He will not apologize for who he is.)


	11. eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for Lily's own triggers, a lot of cursing, and James Potter being a beautiful human being.

In November, when most of the Slytherin hate crimes have subsided, there are red words splashed across Lily’s robes and body. There’s hatred spelled out in bleeding ink.

She comes to James more shattered than he’s seen her in a long time.

(She’s been doing so well, too. That broomstick ride, and her arms around him. Later, casual touches in the corridor. Nothing special, but _contact._ Making _progress._ )

“You were supposed to _wait for me_ _!”_ he yells at her.

Empty and frustrated and wild with rage. He wants to kill Mulciber but Mulciber isn't around, so he screams at Lily instead, like she could have prevented this. Like she could have prevented her own hurt.

It’s a miracle she can still scream back.

 _“Fuck_ you, Potter; I can take care of myself!”

When he reaches for her arm, though, she lets him. He pulls up the sleeve of her sweater to expose a single word, traced over and over in a chicken-scratch hand.

_Mudblood Mudblood Mudblood Mudblood Mudblood_

“Don’t,” she says. Such remarkable softness in contrast to her earlier shouts. “You’ll hurt yourself, looking at it.”

“I’ll hurt _myself?_ Evans, goddammit--”

He casts the charm to rid her of the ink, but in his haste he fucks up and scours half the threads from her robes. She stands looking down at herself like she’s frozen, and then she shucks her transparent robes and turns to go up the stairs to the girls’ dormitory.

“Evans, please.”

He can hear the tears behind her voice. Shaky. “Leave me alone.”

“ _No_ \--”

He makes a lunge for the stairs and on the third step, there’s this noise halfway between a shriek and a whir and the whole staircase turns to an enormous stone chute. He hits the bottom with a thud, and then Lily comes crashing down atop him, so they’re entangled at the edge of the common room.

Someone wolf-whistles, and someone else shouts, “Can’t get into her knickers up _there,_ Potter!”

Lily’s Bat-Bogey Hex slicks by James’s cheek, and there’s the heavy _whuff_ of impact. The mocking voice is smothered by squealing bats.

“You _idiot_ _,”_ Lily hisses. “You know you can’t get up to the girls’--”

“Well, you can’t very well get up, now, either--”

The wild flapping emitting from the center common room ceases. “Oi, Evans! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You don’t want to stay here,” James says, desperately.

“I don’t want to go to _your_ dorm, either; people are already assuming we’re together.”

“Evans, you’ve just been attacked _\--_ _again--”_

“I was not _attacked--”_

Tears are brimming: anger, frustration. She stamps her foot in an entirely un-Lily-like manner.

James says, his voice much softer, “Go upstairs.”

The tears spill over, and she nods, silent resignation. She turns and disappears up the steps to the boys’ dormitory.

 

“I have your robes,” he says, five minutes later.

She rolls over--his bed, this time, not Peter’s--and looks up at him. He has to catch his breath because it shouldn’t be possible to look so gorgeous while covered in snot and tears.

“I don’t want them,” she says.

He sits down beside her and lays the ruined robes out on his knee. Lily looks at him, hollow-eyed.

James Vanishes the robes.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

He removes his trainers and stretches himself out beside her. She hasn’t taken her shoes off, and he knows there’ll be dirt on the sheets, later. He doesn’t particularly care.

“Where were the teachers?” he says, keeping his voice low. Soothing. “Didn’t he get you in the middle of the Charms hallway?”

“McGonagall went off after him. Avery, too, and--” She sniffs. “Maybe Severus. I only saw Mulciber and Avery, but they hardly ever go anywhere without Sev, anymore.”

“And you didn’t wait for McGonagall to come back? You just came to me?”

He supposes the twinge of flattery he feels is inappropriate.

“There were too many people. I didn’t want to melt down, stand there, in front of everyone--”

He says, “Oh, Evans.”

“The first time someone called me Mudblood,” she says, “I didn’t know what it meant. It wasn’t even slightly insulting.”

“Is it insulting, now?”

“It wasn’t what made me fall apart.”

“I know.”

He dares to reach out to her, to brush her shoulder with his hand. At his touch, she rolls over, cocooning herself in the curve of his body. Her hair lies in flyaway curls across his collarbone.

“I am in constant awe of you,” he whispers.

“You shouldn’t be. I’ve not done anything special.”

“You’ve recovered from a sexual assault. Not everyone _does_ that. A month ago, you were telling me there was no way you’d move on.”

She shakes her head, wordless.

He props himself up on his elbow. “Lily Evans. Listen to me. You were Sorted into Gryffindor.”

“I don’t think I’m brave,” she breathes.

“Well, I deem you a terrible judge of your own character.”

Her laugh is choked. “You’ve got a strange way of making me feel better.”

“I do my best.”

He eases himself back down again, and this time she wraps her arms around him and pillows her head on his chest. He can feel her whole slender length against him.

“Sleep, yeah?” he tells her.

“Yeah.”

When she’s fallen asleep, he hesitates, then drops a kiss on her forehead; a gift. Light as anything. He tells himself it doesn’t have to mean anything.

(None of this has _ever_ had to mean anything.)

(But it does. He can’t deny it. It means so much.)

He closes his own eyes and waits for sleep to claim him.


	12. twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I couldn't get a chapter up yesterday! Here's a bit of Wolfstar for you. I'll have a much longer chapter going up next.

December.

Sirius has stopped running with the Marauders on the full moon. He claimed a fever, last time, and a family emergency the time before that. Remus doesn’t have the heart to disprove his lies.

The library’s the only place Remus knows he won’t run into Sirius, so he spends most of his time there. Occasionally he’ll find James and Lily, side by side at one of the big oak tables. They ask him to join them, polite and perfunctory, but he always refuses. Even if they aren’t dating, they’ve established themselves as a pair. No place for a third wheel.

He’s in the library on a Hogsmeade Saturday, bent over an essay for Transfiguration and several heavy Defense Against the Dark Arts texts, when someone thumps down beside him.

“Yes?” Remus says mildly.

He’s surprised anyone’s in the castle--it’s gorgeous outside, the last gasp of a briskly russet fall. Hogsmeade will be all decorated up for Christmas.

“You bloody overachieving _prat--”_

The sound of Sirius Black’s voice is more than enough to tear Remus from his homework.

“I should have known I’d find you here.”

Remus closes his books and sets his parchment and quill aside. Looking at Sirius causes physical pain, somewhere between his stomach and his chest.

“Why are you here?” he says.

“McGonagall. I jinxed Mulciber for cursing Evans in the hallway. Mulciber has detention for the rest of his unholy life, though, so all’s well that ends well.”

Remus blinks. It’s a shockingly decent thing for Sirius to have done.

“Why are _you_ here, Moons? You’ve never been one to turn down a good butterbeer. Or chocolate, for that matter.”

Remus looks away. “It doesn’t matter.”

“You ought to be enjoying yourself.”

“I thought--”

Sirius waits.

“James went with Lily, and Peter went with those Hufflepuff blokes he’s been hanging around with. And I thought you--I thought you and Marlene would be there. So I didn’t really see a reason to go.”

When he looks at Sirius, he’s startled by the smile that appears on the Marauder’s lips.

“I broke up with Marlene,” Sirius says. Cheerful.

Remus gapes. Sirius has a habit of doing this: dropping bombs without so much as a flicker of warning.

“Last week.”

“Oh,” Remus manages.

“In an explosive manner. Actually, I’m surprised you didn’t know.”

“No one tells me anything,” Remus says. It comes out caustic, bitter, and he wishes he could bite it back.

“What about James? Peter?”

“James spends every moment of his time with Lily. And Peter has never told me anything.” Remus inhales. Weighs his chances. Says, “You were always the one who--”

He stops, expecting a grimace from Sirius. He gets nothing: just a polite, courteous stare.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t hate me. It’s unsettling.”

Sirius raises a brow. “Really, Remus?”

Remus closes his eyes and thinks about punching Sirius. Then about kissing him. He thinks about his hand on the back of Sirius’s head, pulling him forward.

“I _don’t_ hate you,” Sirius says.

Remus opens his eyes.

“You look surprised.”

“I am,” Remus says.

“I know I was a dick about it--”

“An _unabashed_ dick.”

“Well, I’m abashed now. I know I was a dick about it, and I’m sorry.”

Remus says, “It’s not a sin and it’s not a--a _lifestyle_ and I don’t want you treating me with _\--_ _pity,_ or _sympathy--”_

“I’ll be as rude to you as ever.”

They look at each other, across the library table, and Sirius’s smile is small and sad. Remus thinks this is perhaps the strangest apology he’s ever received.

(And _oh,_ but he hates how it gives him hope.)


	13. thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for strong language, James Potter being an idiot, and references to rape/sexual assault. If it makes you feel any better, this chapter hurt me.

In Hogsmeade, there are leaves still falling: evidence of an autumn that’s refused to relinquish its grasp.

“I’ve been thinking,” James says.

“That’s new.”

“Piss off.” He goes to punch Lily’s shoulder, and she dodges, laughing. Her hair’s a riot of color over her dark jacket and jeans. “I’m actually trying to be serious here. I think you should tell Dumbledore.”

She stiffens.

“Or McGonagall, at least, if you’re not ready.”

“I’m not ready to tell anyone,” she says coldly.

“You told _me_.”

“You _guessed._ ”

“And haven’t I helped?”

“Mulciber will kill me if I tell anyone--”

“This isn’t grammar school, Evans; there are no more tattletales.”

She continues as if he hasn’t spoken. “Even if he’s expelled, he might come after me, once we’ve graduated--”

Frustration makes James cruel. “Have you ever considered that it’s not just you? That he’ll give up on you as soon as it starts being hard to attack you? That maybe he just wants to fuck any Muggle-born he can get his hands on?”

He regrets it as soon as it’s out, but it’s too late, and Lily is already stepping away from him. Her eyes are wide. He wants to call it _hurt,_ that emotion on her face _,_ but he knows it’s more than that.

“Oh, so that’s all this is to you,” she says.

“Evans, I’m sorry--”

“Just a bloke who wants to fuck Muggle-borns. Nothing wrong with that.”

“That’s not what I said and you know it. I just wanted to _help_ \--I wanted you to know that he might not come after you again--he might not think it’s worth it--”

“ _Not worth it?_ ”

He realizes he’s made the situation worse.

“So he’ll just go off and rape another Muggle-born? And that’s okay, as long as it isn’t _me_?”

“No, it’s _not_ okay, but--”

“Don’t try to defend yourself, Potter. You know it’s not going to work.”

(In Hogsmeade, there are leaves still falling.)

There is a girl stomping away.

There is a boy standing still, in the middle of the street.

There are unsaid words and he loves her so much.

He lets her go.

 

It’s nearly seven when James enters the common room. He’s exhausted and freezing and there’s leaf litter on the hem of his sweater.

“You look like shit,” Peter says, promptly, as James installs himself in the armchair closest to the other Marauders.

“I feel a bit like shit, too,” James says.

Sirius says, “Where’s your girlfriend?”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Well, where is she?”

“Stomped off somewhere;  _I_ don’t know.”

He shucks his sweater and slides down in the chair so he’s all hunched up. A tangle of long limbs and uneasy curls. His feet are higher than his head.

“Had a falling-out?” Sirius says, grinning.

“Shut that ugly mouth of yours, Pads, or you’ll be getting overly acquainted with Madam Pomfrey.”

“That was rather uncalled for,” Remus says, with a nervous laugh.

James closes his eyes. “Who jammed a stick up your fat arse?”

“ _Oi,_ ” Sirius says, and James wonders when Remus and Sirius began to defend each other again. “Just because you’re an angsty teenager and can’t deal with a breakup doesn’t mean you have to foist it off on us.”

“It’s not a _breakup!_ ” James roars.

“ _Stomped off somewhere;_ I _don’t know_ ,” Sirius mimics.

“Padfoot,” Remus says. A warning.

“Why don’t we just all calm down?” Peter suggests.

James swallows a tantrum and instead takes a deep breath. He adjusts himself so he’s upright in his chair.

“There we go,” Remus says, soothingly. “You too, Sirius, in and out.”

James says, “Did you see Evans come in?”

“Two hours ago, maybe,” Peter says. “Mad as hell. She went upstairs.”

James puts his head in his hands. He sees fireworks behind his eyes, and the leaves that fell in Hogsmeade. He sees Lily Evans’ dark red hair.

“I fucked up,” he says, to no one in particular.

“We’ve all done it,” Sirius says briskly.

“But I really love her.”

James brings his head up from his hands to find his friends staring at him.

“Merlin,” Sirius says, with admiration.

“What?”

“That’s the first time you’ve ever said that.”

James nearly laughs. “I said it loads of times, last year.” He glances to Remus, to Peter, but finds no support. They’re both watching him with the same look Sirius has.

He adds, losing momentum, “And fifth, too.”

“You didn’t mean it, though,” Remus says, quietly.

“How d’you know I didn’t?”

“You’ve never said it like _that_ ,” Peter says.

James looks up at the ceiling. Above him, Lily will be changing into her pajamas. She’ll be talking to Marlene, to Mary, to Dorcas. Maybe, when she gets into bed, she’ll be crying.

“Prongs,” Remus says, gentle. “Are you sure it’s not a breakup?”

And _Remus_ of all people, who _knows._ Or knows _some_ of it, anyway. Enough of it.

So James repeats what he’s already told Remus, two and a half months ago. He gives him the truth, but this time it doesn’t feel like the truth. It doesn’t taste like the truth, in between his lips.

(Because he loves her, he loves her; he wants her to be _safe._ And she went through a really hard time but was almost better, and she could have ditched him at any point and she _didn’t,_ she _didn’t,_ she stayed and she was Lily and Evans and all of it but now it’s too late because she’s gone.)

“She’s having a really hard time.”

Sirius and Peter haven’t heard this. Their heads come up like eager dogs.

“I’m not dating her. I know you all think I am, but I’m not. I’m helping her. Protecting her. And then I fucked up today and she’s almost better now and she doesn’t need me and--”

He realizes he’s breathing too fast, and stops. His hand goes to his hair--shoves it back--before he knows what he’s doing.

(Lily hates that.)

Sirius says, “Damn.”

Peter’s twitching a little, his eyes wide. “What’s the hard time?”

“I shouldn’t say,” James says, because he hasn’t even told Remus, the one person Lily said he _could_ tell, and he’s not going to betray her trust.

“Does she need help? Like, mental help and shit?” Sirius says.

“She’s a lot better, but she still needs protection in the halls, or else Mulciber--”

He chokes back the end of his sentence, knowing he’s already said too much.

“Mulciber?” Sirius says.

He’s gripping the arms of his chair. It’s no secret what Mulciber did to Mary Macdonald last year--even though, James thinks, what he did to Lily is worse--and Sirius has always been a champion of the preyed-on.

“Forget you heard that,” James says.

“Dammit, Prongs, why haven’t you slaughtered him yet? If you don’t do it, I’ll do it for you. Catch him in the hall and just beat the shit out of him.”

“That won’t solve anything,” Remus says.

Sirius has the white-eyed look of a man who knows he’s insane.

“We can help,” Peter says suddenly, hesitant. “In the halls, I mean. When she walks from class to class, we can go with her. Maybe a different one every time, so she won’t suspect. That way you’ll still be keeping her safe, Prongsie, even if she hates you.”

James considers this.

“We’d defend your wounded heart, like good Marauders, but I think Evans’ situation comes before that, at the moment,” Sirius says.

James’s smile feels strange on his face.

“And _then,_ ” Sirius adds, like a prat, “once we’ve defended _her_ honor, we can corner her and tell her all about your wounded heart _._ ”

(Maybe they made a mistake, or two, once upon a time, but right now James’s friends are brilliant and beautiful, and they are not idiots. They are his.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta get worse before it gets better.


	14. fourteen

“What happened?”

Lily pauses with her shirt half over her head. She gives Marlene a suspicious look through the armhole.

“Don’t look at me like that. I saw you come back from Hogsmeade early.”

“James Potter is an arsehole,” Lily says flatly, tugging her shirt down onto her shoulders.

“So you’ve been telling me for years.”

Lily knows there’s an  _ and yet  _ coming.

“And yet…”

“And yet?” Lily repeats, when Marlene trails off.

“And yet for the past few months you’ve been singing his praises. So I thought something had changed.”

“He’s an arsehole.”

Marlene holds up her hands, palms out. “I’m not going to argue with you.”

“Good,” Lily says, tight, and they finish dressing in silence.

 

At lunch in the Great Hall, mid-December, things have changed.

Sirius sits with Remus, now, and Peter, and Potter. The way they used to sit: all in a pack. Lily sits with Marlene and Dorcas a bench-length down from them.

Sometimes she’ll turn that way, to call something to Mary or lift a sandwich from a platter to her left, and she’ll catch a glimpse of Potter. He’ll be leaning down, saying something to Sirius. His hair in his face. Glasses and red cheeks and a rueful smile.

She tries to ignore him, to think of the things he said in Hogsmeade, but somehow she always ends up remembering the months before that. Remembering falling asleep beside him. Remembering the way he’d laugh.

It’s almost Christmas, and lights are up all around the castle. Last week, she saw him twirling in the snow outside--dizzy and laughing and covered in the remains of Sirius’s snowballs--and the sight of him hit her in the heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hear me out on the shortness of this. The last one was epically long (for me; I know some authors write like 8,000 word chapters and I am in UTTER AWE. I write a lot of chapters, but they're all tiny), and I felt like I needed some contrast in Lily's POV. Short, sad, and sweet.


	15. fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out I've lost complete track of how many chapters there are going to be in this fic. So...it's a surprise, I guess. I think the total is around 21. Ish. Maybe.
> 
> Warnings for internalized homophobia, but then not, because love (and Sirius) wins. Always.

Sirius is halfway to Herbology when a snowball smacks him in the back of the head.

“What the  _ fuck _ \--”

He whirls, and there’s Remus, hatless and gloveless and dusted in snow. Grinning like he’s got absolutely nothing to lose.

“Good morning, Pads,” he says.

“You saw me in the Great Hall,” Sirius says, attempting to sift the chunks of snow from his hair.

“Oh, don’t get all technical on me.”

Then they’re rushing at each other, laughing, and Sirius tackles Remus--or maybe Remus tackles Sirius--and they roll over and over and over on the ground and it’s icy-frigid and Sirius can’t feel his face. 

And there’s this and this and this heat in his chest and he doesn’t know what it is.

(Hasn’t ever felt it before--)

He doesn’t realize how fast his heartbeat’s going until he’s nose-to-nose with Remus in the drifts.

“Tell me you don’t want me to,” Remus says, and Sirius can taste his breath.

(This is a  _ sin.  _ This is  _ wrong,  _ and he’s heard his mother rail against it a thousand times.)

He tries to say he doesn’t want him to.

~~ He tries ~~ He lies.

(And Remus’s lips are touching his and he can’t remember how to breathe.)


	16. sixteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: for Mulciber and all the harassment and general awfulness that goes with him, for an uncomfortable1970s reaction to homosexuality that (obviously) turns into "I ship it", and for kissing.

On New Year’s Eve, Mulciber grabs Lily by the shoulder and swings her towards him and when she’s right up against his chest, struggling to get away, he looks down at her and growls, _“_ _Filthy Mudblood bitch.”_

Peter, walking with Lily from Defense Against the Dark Arts to Arithmancy, hits Mulciber with a Leg-Locker, and McGonagall comes by to pick up the scraps.

A detention is issued, as well as a warning. _Your second strike._ Expulsion will be next.

Lily closes her eyes and breathes.

From behind a statue of Rohannus the Rotund, James watches it all.

 

That night, the seventh year Gryffindors take the common room as their own.

There’s bad blood between a few of them--glares between Sirius and Marlene, a complete lack of eye contact from Lily to James--but after a while the firewhiskey Sirius swiped begins to take effect, and there’s less jealous glaring and more drunken giggling. Someone suggests Spin the Bottle, as a game to pass the hours until midnight, and Sirius gamely volunteers to go first.

He spins, and lands on Remus.

“Go again,” James says, “or you can skip, I guess--”

But Sirius leans across the circle, takes Remus by the neck, and kisses him soundly. James has never seen two boys kiss, and the sight of it is like a physical assault. It’s bruising in its passion.

When they break apart, Sirius looks at James.

“I’m not a witch or a sinner,” he says, “but I don’t expect you’ll believe me.”

James looks at Peter, wide-eyed, and Peter shrugs.

“I kind of saw it coming,” he says apologetically.

The girls are giggling, nervous. Even Marlene stifles a smile.

“Oh,” James says, and clears his throat. “Right. Well, uh, let’s go on, then.”

Alice spins next, and lands on James. They kiss clinically, chaste; Alice has a boyfriend in sixth year and James has no wish to engage in a snog-fest in front of Lily.

Lily spins, and gets Marlene. They make awkward faces at each other. Dorcas giggles.

“Go again,” Sirius says, “if you don’t want to--”

 _“Yuck,"_ Lily says emphatically, setting Dorcas off again, and she spins a second time.

This time the bottle points to James.

He looks at her and she looks at him and there’s firewhiskey burning a hole in his stomach. It tastes like fear, and a little like rejection.

“Go on,” Dorcas whispers; “go _on--_ ”

He eases forward onto his knees. For a second he thinks Lily’s going to refuse, but then she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, and moves to meet him. He slides a hand through her hair, to the back of her head.

It feels wrong all the way up until the point his lips touch hers.

Then he forgets about the people watching, and he forgets about the months spent apart, because he’s kissing Lily Evans and she’s as good as anything he’s ever tasted. She’s burnt sugar and leaves in Hogsmeade and he loves her with everything he has.

They pull apart and sit back down, and for an awkward moment the circle is completely silent. Then Sirius wolf-whistles, and the others relax into laughter and hoots.

James looks across the circle to Lily. Mouths, _All right, Evans?_

She gives him a tiny smile and a thumbs-up, and for the first time, it feels like she’s telling the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there are many, many fics centered around the idea of Gryffindors playing drinking games. So, in case you've written one of those fics and are justifiably annoyed that I didn't write the headcanon as well as you, credit to all of those works and their authors for inspiring this chapter. :)
> 
> (Sorry if you don't like Peter being heroic with his Leg-Locker Curse, but...not sorry! I'm all about Peter being heroic. He was a Marauder, and Marauders are heroic. If you share my views on him, then I've written a story in defense of him called "hands".) 
> 
> Anyway, I'm blabbing on. I hope you all have a lovely day/night/morning/afternoon!


	17. seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a more lighthearted little chapter for you all. Thanks for sticking with me.

“Have you seen Matthews today? He looks _petrified."_

“Heard Mulciber cursed a bunch of first years, yesterday; that’s probably why.”

“Did he get caught?”

“I don’t think so. I heard it from Dorcas.”

“He’s up for expulsion, next.”

“At least it wasn’t Evans--”

James sees them all glance at him, then glance back at each other. It’s been a month since he kissed Lily, but whenever her name is mentioned, the Marauders still automatically look towards him.

“You’d think Dumbledore’d do something about it, wouldn't you?”

“Dumbledore’s never around anymore; haven't you noticed? He's running some secret organization outside of school.”

“Bloody brilliant, that man is.”

“James, are you quite finished with those lacewings?”

James looks down and realize he's smashed his lacewings almost to a pulp. He scoops them up and dumps them into the cauldron set between him and Peter.

“Stir counterclockwise,” Peter says, handing him a silver spoon.

“Smell anything yet?” Sirius says, from one table over.

James takes a quick sniff. He's smelled Amortentia before, but it was first year, so it smelled of his mother and polished broom handles and new books. Now the scent is of Lily Evans’ hair.

“Maybe,” he says.

Sirius sniffs his own potion and grimaces.

“What is it?” Remus says, peering over his shoulder.

“Smells like you, you bastard.”

Remus goes a shade of red James has never seen before. _“_ _Sirius._ Could you _keep your voice down.”_

“I can handle them,” Sirius scoffs, making a dismissive gesture towards the five other members of the NEWT-level Potions class.

“If the Slytherins are going after Muggle-borns, they'll be after queers, too--”

“And I can handle them, too.” Sirius drops a kiss amongst Remus’s curls, and James looks hurriedly away. “I bet yours smells like me, too; there isn’t any use hiding it.”

Peter says, “Mine’s like chocolate and the forest at full moon. Why can't you smell yours more clearly, Prongs?”

“He just doesn't want to admit it smells like Evans,” Sirius says, adding a drop of hog’s blood to the Amortentia.

“Does not,” James says, flushing.

“Does too.”

“Does _not._ ”

“All your fantasies are of her, too, ever since that kiss--”

James lunges at him, knocking both cauldrons to the floor. A splash of potion plumes up and hits Remus right in the face, and he trips into James and Sirius, entangled on the floor.

 _“Boys!"_  Slughorn shouts, from across the room.

A second later, James feels himself being hauled up off of Sirius. He's dripping in potion, but he's managed to avoid swallowing any. Lily’s scent is everywhere.

“Take that _back,_ _”_ he growls at Sirius.

Sirius’s mouth is open, his eyes wide. He says, “It was a _joke,_ mate.”

Slughorn’s nearly apoplectic. “Both of you have detention for a week. You'll be rebrewing this potion. I cannot _believe_ such well-brought-up men as you could act this way--”

“Wasn't my fault, Professor; did you see him jump me?” Sirius protests.

Slughorn lowers James to the ground. With one flick of his wand, he’s Vanished the potion, and healed the shattered remains of both cauldrons.

“It's not your place to argue,” he says, turning to Sirius. “I want you both out of my class. _Now._ ”

 

They don't speak to each other, coming out of the dungeon. Sirius heads towards the common room, and James hurries in the direction of the lake.

It's cold outside, and nearly deserted. As he slouches towards the lake, footsteps pound behind him.

“James! _Prongs!”_

He turns and finds Remus, face still wet with Amortentia, work robes soaked. He’s got this misty, imploring look on his face.

“That was awfully brave of you,” he says, catching up to James. _“_ _Awfully_ brave.”

“Er...thank you.”

James looks around for backup, and finds none. He doesn't know if he's ever seen Remus gush like this before.

“You're so _strong,"_  Remus says, his voice hushed. “So tall and handsome...I don't reckon a bloke like you would ever look twice at me. But I've got to tell you something, Prongs--it's _important,_ I think I might _die_ if I don't tell you now--”

James looks at Remus in utter bemusement.

“I’m in _love_ with you, James.”

And then he's up on his tiptoes, grasping at James’s lapels. Leaning close. James has just enough time to realize it's the Amortentia talking before--

“Oh, _shit--_ ”

It's Lily’s voice, unmistakable and panicked.

James pries Remus off of him.

“Evans--this isn’t--”

“I didn’t mean--”

“No,” James says, _“_ _no._ Look, why weren’t you in Potions?”

“I was talking to Flitwick about the Charms NEWT. Uh, here, I’ll just--”

“It’s not what you think it is, it’s this numbskull, swallowed Amortentia in Potions--”

“He’s wrong. No love potion could have the power to make me feel this way,” Remus interjects, helpfully.

Lily puts a hand over her mouth. It could be interpreted as horror, but there are telltale creases around her eyes. “Oh, _Remus--”_

Remus looks at her with dewy eyes. “You’ll bless our union, won’t you, Lily?”

“I’d, uh--”

“Sirius can be my best man, James, and Peter can be yours.”

“Not sure how Sirius would feel about that, mate.” James takes Remus’s arm and slings it around his shoulders. “Look, why don’t we take you up to Madam Pomfrey?”

“But I’m not sick. I feel better than I’ve ever felt in my _entire life._ ”

“Well, let’s check, just in case.”

Lily says, “I can help--”

“You don’t have to--”

She steps forward and Remus allows his other arm to be maneuvered around her neck. He hangs majestically between them, beatific and limp.

“Thanks,” James says.

“No problem.” Lily gives him a little smile, and he doesn’t know when he’s last seen such mischief in her eyes. “Least I can do for you two lovebirds.”


	18. eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @accidentallybroken...Sirius's reaction.
> 
> No warnings unless you're not here for Wolfstar.

“I _can’t believe it._ ”

Remus buries his face in his hands.

“Relax, Moons,” James says, bracingly. “Sirius doesn’t have to know.”

“Did I manage to kiss--”

“No, you didn’t; how much of an idiot d’you think I am? You made a fool of yourself in front of Evans, though.”

Remus groans.

“Join the club. We’ve all done it.”

“None of you have swallowed Amortentia--”

“It was my fault, okay? I was the one who knocked the cauldrons over.”

“Moony!”

Sirius comes bursting through the infirmary door, Peter at his heels.

“I heard you were in the hospital wing, but no one would tell me anything, and I thought--”

He sees James. Stops.

“Oh,” he says, coldly. “Excuse me. Am I interrupting something?”

“Don’t be a prat, okay? I’m really sorry.”

Sirius’s stiff expression loosens a bit. “You should be.”

“I overreacted.”

“You did.”

“I got us detention.”

“You did.”

“You’re smiling.”

“I’m _not._ ”

“Should have known you can’t stay mad at me for longer than--”

“Shut _up_ \--”

And then they’re embracing, wrapped together, black hair and James’s glasses squashed against Sirius’s shoulder, and Sirius is muttering something like a blessing, smiling no matter what he tries to say.

“So what’s wrong with you?” Peter says, settling on the edge of Remus’s bed.

“I swallowed some Amortentia--”

_“What?”_

Sirius is at Remus’s side instantly, one hand out in this possessive gesture that makes Remus’s heart skip a little double beat.

“It splashed up and hit me in the face when you two idiots were fighting.”

“Whose was it? Are you still--”

“Madam Pomfrey gave me the antidote in a second. It was James’s.”

_“Shit. ”_

James raises his hands as Sirius whirls on him. “Easy.”

“Did--”

“He said I was the love of his life, called me tall and handsome and too good for him, and tried to snog me. Evans interrupted him just in time, and we got him to the hospital wing.”

Remus’s face is burning. “Look, Pads, I don’t remember any of it.”

Sirius sinks wordlessly onto Remus’s mattress.

“Just _snog_ him already,” James says, exasperated; “we’ll look away.”

Sirius brushes his thumb along Remus’s jaw. “Madly in love with James Potter, are we?”

“Fuck off, Pads; no one wants you here.”

“You liar. Your Amortentia smelled like me.”

“I never told you that.”

“If you’re going to be like _this,_ ” James says, from his position by the door, “I’ll just leave. Come on, Wormtail, let’s give these two their privacy.”

When they’ve left, Sirius eases himself down beside Remus, and their feet touch.

“Don’t do that to me again.”

“I won’t.”

Sirius kisses Remus, and it’s soft lips and heat and just as good as the first time.

“My Amortentia,” Remus whispers, into Sirius’s neck, “smelled just like you.”

Sirius smiles a predatory grin.


	19. nineteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for attempted rape/non-con. 
> 
> Only two more chapters to go, my friends, and the last one's an epilogue. Sorry about this one. :(

Lily’s coming back from the hospital wing when Mulciber catches her.

One hand on her arm and the other at the back of her neck. He hisses something unintelligible and vaguely insulting.

“Get off me,” she says, as clearly as she can. Her heart’s going a thousand miles an hour and they’re alone in the hallway. The way he cornered her before.

“I don’t think so.”

She hits the wall with a thud that rattles her bones. Pain up her tailbone and her spine. She remembers the shadow of a bruise, there, from before, and she has to fight not to cry out.

“Where’s Potter? Isn’t he always the one protecting you?”

“ _I_ _can protect myself._ ”

“Sure you can.”

He pushes his face into hers, so her head’s forced sideways against the wall. His mouth is hot on her neck.

“I think I like you better fighting,” he whispers, into the hollow between her neck and her shoulder. “That Body-Bind was too easy, don’t you think?”

“Let go of me.”

“Not yet, Evans; not yet. We need to take our _time_.”

It’s worse than the first time because she knows what’s coming. And she knows there’s absolutely no one who’s going to stop him.

She reaches helplessly for her wand, and he pins her arm.

_“Don’t.”_

He bites her jaw, and then the soft part of her neck right under her ear. She cries out--maybe this will bring someone--a teacher, poking their head from a classroom--but he seals his mouth over hers and drowns her cry.

(He tastes nothing like ~~Potter~~ James.)

_“MULCIBER!”_

There’s a bang, and Mulciber’s body is shoved away from hers. With nothing to keep her upright, she falls. She slides down the wall and she’s not crying. She _will not cry._

“Evans--”

James kneels in front of her.

(He’s not Potter--he’s James and he saved her and he’s _here_.)

“Did you _kill_ him?” she chokes out.

“He’s Stunned; I should have--”

She reaches for him and he takes her in his arms without another word. Even with her head safely against his chest, she doesn’t dare to cry.

To cry would be to admit defeat.

To cry would be to lose.

“You’re okay,” James breathes.

_You’re okay._

“Did he--”

“No,” she says, muffled, into his breastbone, and his sigh of relief shudders through her.

“Peter went to get McGonagall. Mulciber will be expelled for sure, this time--”

She closes her eyes.

“Are you sure he didn’t--”

“He didn’t, James, I promise.”

She can feel him register the way she uses his first name: that slight ripple of surprise. His arms tighten around her and he touches his lips to her hair.

“I shouldn’t have said any of what I said in Hogsmeade,” he says. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“I’m not the only one you have to save.”

“I know.”

“Those first years--”

“I know.”

She burrows back against his chest again.

“You’re the bravest person I know,” James says.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

She reaches for her wand and casts _Expecto Patronum,_ and when the Patronus bursts into ethereal being she looks at James and his eyes are wide.

 _“You_ are, Potter,” she says, and then, no, _“James.”_

By the time Professor McGonagall arrives, the silver doe has long since disappeared, and Lily is asleep in James’ embrace.


	20. twenty

Mulciber gets expelled.

For the rest of the year, there are no more attacks. The Muggle-borns breathe sighs of relief. The first years stop glancing over their shoulders.

Severus Snape has guilt in his eyes, but he still sits with Avery at lunch.

Some things never change.

(Some things that are broken can’t be fixed.)

 

In March, Lily finds James by the lake. He’s standing by the shore, where Remus tried to kiss him, and with the sun on his glasses, he looks like a hero. He looks nothing like the arrogant, obnoxious boy he’s been for the past few years.

“Evans,” he says, by way of greeting.

“Potter,” she says, in return.

“All right?”

She nods, and he turns from the lake to look at her. His eyes are hazel behind his glasses and he’s smiling, a shy little twist of his mouth.

“You look beautiful,” he says.

She cut her hair, the day after Mulciber got expelled, and it’s growing out in wisps and curls. She likes it better this way. It’s like she cut the memories right out of it.

“Hey, Potter?” she says.

“Yeah?”

She takes his shoulders and she kisses him. Once. Hard. He smells familiar. He smells the way her Amortentia did in Potions, like cologne and boy shampoo and warmth.

“Now,” she says, “you owe me two.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if I'll ever ship anything more than I ship Jily. They're such a sweet beautiful screwed-up unconventional mess.


	21. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well.
> 
> This is it.
> 
> No warnings for this one--at least if you've come this far and not yet been traumatized. This has been quite the ride, and I'm grateful to everyone who has left kudos, commented, or just spared a moment of their day to click through this crazy fic.

“James,” Lily says.

“Yeah.”

She swallows. Takes a deep breath. “I--”

He turns halfway over so his shoulder isn’t facing her, but he doesn’t touch her yet. Maybe he sees the indecision on her face. Hears the tremor in her voice.

“Thinking,” she says, “analytically.”

And waits.

“About what?” he says.

His eyes are gentle; his smile half-present. There’s no contact between them, and yet he steadies her.

“About--” she says.

More silence.

“About--”

She looks at the ceiling, and then back at him.

“Well,” she says. “I think you were right. About me not being asexual. I mean, I know you never explicitly said I wasn't; you were too nice. But. I don’t think I am. Because I was. I was traumatized. You know? But that. Was a different. Thing. And I still--”

And oh God, she loves him. She loves him because his smile doesn’t grow. She loves him because he doesn’t move to touch her, kiss her. She loves him because all he gives her is just this calm, understanding nod.

“So,” she says. “I think I can. Think analytically. About. About. Sex.”

She sounds utterly ridiculous. Now he’s smiling. But it’s not a cruel smile; it’s a soft one. It’s a kind of smile like _I’m so glad._ Like he’s glad for her, not for him.

“But not now,” she says.

“I know.”

“I’m not ready.”

“I know. I’m not, either.”

But all the same, he holds out his arms to her, and she wriggles closer, smushing her face into his shoulder.

“But I love you,” he says. “You know that?”

“I love you, too.”

“And someday--”

“Yes.”

And he holds her close in the push-pull London white noise of their flat, until she’s breathing heavy in his arms.


End file.
